


Secrets in Blood

by yunmin



Category: Bones (TV), Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cannibalism, Creepy, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 22:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2085018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anderson has always had secrets. Always. About Elle Greenaway’s almost murder, about the affair he’s having with the chief. But he’s still got more to hide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets in Blood

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like seven months ago, in response to [this](http://andersonsland.tumblr.com/post/70418168526/gormogon) anonymous message sent to AJ when we were all trying to work out Anderson's first name, and the ensuing conversation [here.](http://andersonsland.tumblr.com/post/70426158090/turtlewithatardis-andersonsland%22) With all the Gormogon research for the smile!verse in my head, I ran with it. This is the end result.
> 
> (I was recently asked to add this to my ao3 account, so now you all get to be inflicted with the crazy.)
> 
> Heed the warnings. While not necessarily explicit, it doesn't gloss over the nature of Gormogon's cannibalism either.

Hotch knew the original profile of the Gormogon apprentice. Young, easily influenced, psychotic tendencies, worked a menial job. Probably suffered abuse or been at the system at some point. Under complete control of the dominant partner and delusional.

Of course all that had changed the moment Zack Addy had been revealed as the apprentice. Chucked out the window. Not that the BAU had been on the case back at the time, but Hotch knew Morgan had been receiving information from Cam Saroyan throughout the course of the investigation.

Only now they were on the case, with a fresh set of murders that lined up slightly too well with the ideology and the FBI had let the Jeffersonian have the case for all of five minutes before taking it straight off them and handing it to the BAU instead.

There was an entire contingent of people out in the bullpen, all waiting for a preliminary profile on the guy so they could get on with actually finding him before anyone else died. Especially seeing as Zack Addy had escaped from his supposedly sure psychiatric facility and half of the force seemed to think that he was the one responsible for the recent spree of murders.

Woe betide anyone who crossed Dr. Spencer Reid on that one. Their young genius seemed quite convinced that Zack Addy had nothing whatsoever to do with it.

Anderson came in the door. “They’re waiting for you sir,” he says, letting the office door close behind him. Hotch looks up.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Hotch says back, catching Anderson’s eye.

Anderson steps forward. Hotch is thankful that his blinds were down. He’s fairly certain that at least Rossi had caught onto the affair of sorts he was having with Anderson, but that doesn’t mean he wants it to become common knowledge throughout the FBI.

There’s a reassuring hand placed on a shoulder, a leaning in, forehead against forehead, a quick brush of the lips. This close, Hotch thinks that Anderson’s lips have been looking rather darker, flushed with red lately.

Probably just because of everything they’ve been doing lately. Anderson’s been spending an awful lot of time in the office after hours recently.

Hotch knows they can’t be too long though. He lets Anderson open the door, and then goes out in to the bullpen, where his fellow team members await him to lead the profile.

It’ll lead straight back to Zack Addy. There was no other option.

-x-

Anderson watches Hotch and the others give the profile from the back of the BAU. The MPD is well represented, as are the state police, FBI and a couple of members of the Jeffersonian institute whom Anderson recognises from the first time round of this merry rigmarole.

Spencer Reid doesn’t seem able to control his frustration as the discussion leads back again and again to Zack Addy.

Anderson knows differently. Zack’s old team might think that Zack escaped of his own free will, and was currently on the run goodness knows where until he could get something important to them, but they’d be wrong.

Zack had been locked up for many days now. Anderson was starting to think that there was nothing more useful to be gained from the stupid kid, who was vulnerable and though he knew not to beg, kept looking up with those brown eyes.

Anderson doesn’t get the appeal. Zack’s served his purpose. Anderson’ll kill him tonight. His flesh will be beautiful to feast on. Zack will get his just desserts for betraying their cause many years earlier.

He wonders what to do with the body. Where to send the bones. His mandible will be most fitting, Anderson thinks, or maybe his cranium. To get a reaction from the whole of the Jeffersonian staff would be interesting, but it’s so tempting to deliver it to Spencer Reid’s desk and see the young profiler become so distressed over failing.

So tempting.

He remembers the way Spencer fell apart after Elle’s departure. He wonders if any of them have worked out that she was his first victim, in many ways, the one who’d given him a taste for it.

Quite literally.

Anderson was going to find her. She’d become part of his skeleton, and he’d finally get to savour her flesh, become satiated. Her blood was not going to be enough this time.

Anderson watches his lover finish the profile. That’s what he and Hotch were now, lovers, and Anderson knows that it’s only a matter of time before Hotch fractures and comes over to his side. The man is born to fight against darkness and evil, and after all that’s what Anderson is doing.

And if Hotch refuses to take his place at his lovers side and help him complete the skeleton, well he’ll just become part of it some other way.

Consumption of the flesh had everything to do with sex, after all.

-x-

Anderson had lain low, about a week after Hotch had given that conference. Spencer had been adequately upset by Zack Addy’s death, that was sure, but he’d then taken up the case with a fiery passion that had gotten him nowhere. Hotch had stepped in over his head and the case had gone on the back burner.

It doesn’t mean that Anderson hadn’t made a kill over that time though, of course not. He’d found that darling pretty Agent Greenaway, plunged that knife into her chest, felt her heart stop beating. Roasted her flesh, off her bones good and proper. The team had been out on a case that week, and Anderson had missed Hotch, missed the taste of his lover and he’d had to make up for that.

Oh and god does Aaron taste good. None of the smoke and blood and richness of his kills, but Aaron is almost enough to make him stop, almost, especially now when his broad hand were circling Anderson’s neck and they’re kissing, and Aaron tasted of coffee and sweat and work.

He hasn’t done anything with Elle Greenaway’s remains. It’ll look too obvious.

Hotch’s hands drop lower. Both of their ties were long gone, and their shirts really should be too. There’s a mark on Anderson’s chest, Elle’s last action, managing to mark him, but it is hardly a scar compared to the ones which she bore, which Hotch bears.

Anderson shakes himself free of thinking of Elle. She doesn’t matter. He begins kissing a line down Hotch’s neck, teasing in the collarbone, revelling in the way Hotch groans and grasps at Anderson in reponse.

-x-

Anderson watches Hotch, through his office window. His blinds are up today, and he’s having the most vicious argument with JJ. Anderson doesn’t particularly know what it’s about, but JJ storms out of his office a moment later and can’t resist a glance over to Reid’s former desk.

The two weeks mandatory leave Hotch had forced the young man to take after he’d blown up over the Gormogon case had quickly turned into a six month sabbatical, and if JJ’s anger was anything to go by, probably isn’t going to come back.

JJ’s muttering something to Morgan about putting in for a transfer. Morgan has accepted an offer from New York, Anderson knows. The Unit is falling apart, and that’s absolutely delightful.

Anderson sticks his head in Hotch’s door, almost casually as he walks past, but Hotch pulls him in, closes the door and the blinds and kisses him. “She’s going to leave,” Hotch says.

“You deserve a better liaison, one who actually listens to you,” Anderson replies.

The rest of the team have increasingly been at odds with Hotch lately. It’s interesting.

There’s a large bang on one of the desks outside, some yelling. The bullpen is probably emptying now. None of the agents who work in and around are willing to put up with the nonsense which happens once the main team have got in an argument.

Thankfully, it gives Anderson and Hotch some privacy.

“It’s Reid’s fault anyway, for falling in love with a man he never even met,” Hotch says. “Who even does that?”

Anderson doesn’t know and doesn’t care. Reid’s obsession with Zack Addy had made pulling the unit apart so much easier. They hadn’t even flinched when they found out that Elle Greenaway had been murdered.

Hotch doesn’t even notice the smell of freshly cooked meat that floats throughout Anderson’s house. Doesn’t notice that what’s in his food isn’t exactly standard, that he’s eating human flesh, that at this point he’s almost as complicit in the entire thing as Anderson is.

Hotch usually manages some vague protest of “we’re at work” when Anderson gets on his knees in the office, but today there wasn’t even that. He doesn’t really even say anything, just breathes heavy hot and fast.

When Anderson reaches up to kiss his lover again, he knows he tastes as much of human flesh as he does of Hotch, and wonders again – not for the first time that week – what it would be like to really consume Hotch.

Hotch still doesn’t notice.

-x-

Anderson’s killed fifteen people and fed Hotch eight of those since Hotch gave the preliminary profile in the bullpen.

Reid’s left the bureau, Morgan’s left the city, JJ’s left the unit and Rossi is going back into retirement. Hotch has been handed a whole string of newbies and experienced agents alike, and they all swear that there’s something slightly off about their Unit Chief, something slightly off about the SA who assists him and who currently is the longest standing member of the extended BAU team.

None of them work it out though. Not even the part where their Unit Chief is fucking his assistant, that his assistant spends almost as much time as work blowing the Unit Chief in his office as he does working.

Anderson hungers for meat constantly, and Hotch provides the closest thing. The man doesn’t seem to mind as he watches his life fall apart around him.

He kills the sixteenth person that night and Hotch doesn’t even ask about the blood spatter on his collar or the staining on his cuffs.

He serves straight up filleted steak from that poor victim the next night, and Hotch doesn’t say anything about that either.

Two weeks later Hotch catches him boiling some very clearly human ribs and remains silent on that too.

Anderson is beginning to think that Hotch knows. Knew. Possibly for a while.

They’re still continuing their affair in the office, Anderson is still on his knees every day, and Hotch returns the favour whenever Anderson wants but that isn’t often. The rumours start to spark amongst the new team members about exactly what happens behind that closed door and blinds, but no one confronts either of them about it.

Hotch eats lunch that Anderson made, and there is a certain satisfaction Anderson gets from watching Hotch consume someone else’s flesh. It would be better if he knew, but Anderson can be satisfied with the life he has.

-x-

Four hundred and ninety six days after Hotch gave the profile, he finally asks Anderson.

“What are we eating?”

Four hundred and ninety seven days after Hotch gave the profile, he finds himself with a knife in his chest. A single stab wound to the heart. Anderson decides this will be his last solo kill. He needs to find someone else to share this with.

Hotch tastes delicious, as he always had done.


End file.
